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Cullain Nettar
Email: henrik_bergvin@hotmail.com Description Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Brown-Black Height: 5'6" Weight: 122 Age: 16 Place of Origin: Caemlyn, Andor Stats Rank: Trainee Weaopon Score: 2 Philosophy: Not Choosen Yet Primary Weapon: Secondary Weapon: Tertiary Weapon: History Cullain was born in a craftsmans family of Caemlyn. He never knew his mother though, for she had died one year after he was born while giving birth to what would have a sister to Cullain. Cull, as his friends called him, spent quite some time in his father Jerin's forge, where he forged weapons for the use of the Queen's Guard. His two older brothers, Lotehn and Ruon, were both aspiring blacksmiths and had a good hand in the forge. Cullain lacked the same ability though, and he grew easily bored and impatient after a few hours of hammering in the workshop. His father frowned at him one day, "there's too much energy in you, boy. You should go out and see the world instead, there are so many things you could see and learn." There was a tone in his voice, but Cullain dismissed it and said, "No, I'd much rather stay here and help you. I might not be a good smith, but at least I can help you with other chores." He always did his best to help his family, repairing tools and keeping the forge burning. The family was all he had, and he had no reason to leave them or let them down. When the forge did not need tending, he spent time in the city with his friends. Mirthful as he was, he liked watching the gleemen entertaining in the inns and taverns. Although his father frowned at him for being in the inns, he used to sneak away to hide in a corner or glance through the doorways. He even made himself a couple of colored balls from tightly knit cloth. He knew he couldn't learn to juggle as well as a gleeman, but at least he tried. Always eager to learn more, he couldn't help it. In the nights, he practiced his juggling or spent time in front of the fireplace on a pelt they had there and read books from all over the land. And so it continued. He worked in the forge, spent time laughing with his friends in the streets of Caemlyn, or reading in front of the fireplace. His father did not mention a single word about him leaving the smithy until just after his sixteenth birthday. ---- His father had just forged a slender, single-edged sword with a slightly curved blade meant for one of the nobles in Caemlyn. However, he found a notch in the blade just near the hilt which almost made him discard the weapon. Though something made him flinch. He frowned at the weapon, nodded to himself then put it aside to continue working. As they assembled that night for supper, Jerin brought the blade. "Here, my boy", he had said. "I forged this weapon today but there's a notch in the blade." He paused, closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were full of tears. "You.. You have to go to Tar Valon and seek to join the Warders of the White Tower." Cullain opened his eyes in shock and exclaimed, "but dad, why?" Jerin only shook his head. "It is what your mother wanted, son. It is what she told me before she died." Lotehn and Ruon were both silent, staring down at the stew, occasionally poking at it with their knifes. It was obvious they were as shocked as Cullain. Cullain shook with disbelief, "Dad.. I can't do it.. I mean.. I'm not strong enough.." His father had exhaled slowly. "There's nothing more to it, Cullain. You will leave tomorrow, you can not waste another day, there is a long journey to Tar Valon." That night, he did not sleep very well. He twisted and turned, but could not find sleep. Why had his father been so eager to send him away? Why did his mother want him to join the Warders of the White Tower? The next day, Lotehn and Ruon helped him pack his stuff. They used few words, but both nodded when he had asked them if they knew their mothers words. Why hadn't they told him? ---- He walked down the road. It had been a few weeks since he left Caemlyn behind. He had blisters on his feet and his muscles ached. Several times he had been able to hitch rides with travelling merchants and farmers, but never very far. The pouch of coins his father had given him had thinned, he had few coins left from the long journey. But he knew he would not need much more. In front of him, the walls and towers of Tar Valon shining brightly in the afternoon light. Cullain exhaled slowly. He wondered how he would be met in the city of the Aes Sedai when carrying a sword, but he straightened his shoulders and started walking toward one of the bridges. He had to know. His mother had wished for him to become a Warder of the White Tower. He had to know why. Category:WS 2 Category:Trainee Category:Biographies Category:Warder Bios